Saturday Morning Macarons with Cereal Milk Buttercream

Christina Tosi has given us a gift, my friends, a gift that has been with us since we were old enough to ingest solid foods. A gift we didn't even know we had, a gift that has, quite frankly, been taken criminally for granted, thoughtlessly consumed as Saturday morning hijinks danced wildly across our sleepy faces.

I am, of course, referring to her marvelous reclamation of cereal milk.

Blueberry Sage Pancakes

The great thing about New England is you can go pretty much anywhere up and down the coast on a bus or train. You wanna hang out in Providence? Cool, let's go. Montreal? Done. New York? No sweat. Cars, schmars -- I heart public transportation. It's amazing how easily I slid into a sans-car life, especially given the fact that I nearly cried after I sold Blue Velvet (yes, that's what I named my car), but if there's one thing I don't miss, it's all the stress that comes with having a car. And driving in Boston? Forget about it. Even Derrida is more straightforward than the layout in this city.

Polenta Grilled Cheese Sandwiches: Grilled Cheese and Tomato Soup with a Twist

When I was growing up in Arkansas, I prayed for snowstorms. Snow was a novelty because we hardly got any winter weather. Sure, it would get cold, but it would only snow maybe once or twice, and it would be a half-hearted affair at that. If the weatherman predicted even an inch of snow, it would draw everyone to the grocery store in panicked, wild-eyed droves.

And now it is February in Massachusetts, and the Weather Channel predicts snow over the weekend, and all I can do is sigh and grumble, casting weary glances at the mountains of dirty snow, still piled up in my neighborhood, in Harvard Square, and all over Boston. When will it go away?! I want SPRING. I want the sun in all her golden glory, enrobing me in her rays of life-imbuing light. I want flowers, and trees with leaves on them, and to not have to wear fifty-million layers just to take out the trash.

"Be careful what you wish for" has never rung so annoyingly true.

Linzer Love

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

For the past few days I've been racking my brain trying to figure out what to make for this lovey-doveyest of days. Caufield and I didn't have time to do anything extravagant for Valentine's Day -- we're kind of bad at observing holidays while they're happening (our running joke is that we'll celebrate whatever holiday is coming up at the next one, and this has, with the exception of Christmas in Austin, been going on since his birthday in September...oops). Nevertheless, I still wanted to do something special, so I considered the requisite characteristics of the holiday:

*things are generally pink or red
*sweet
*heart-shaped
*chocolate
*and/or flowery

Curried Sweet Potatoes with Farro, Kale, and Brussels Sprouts

Before I get on with this post, I must convey my sincerest of apologies. The last month and a half of summer was fraught with familial strife, and in an effort to deal with all that was going on, I succumbed to that terribly contagious disease known as NBN, or New Blog Neglectitis. Moving to Boston with Caufield only served to exacerbate the condition, and whenever I'd make a tasty treat or bloggable meal, I'd snap a couple half-hearted photos on my phone and upload them to my computer with the good intention of breathing life back into this here blog...and never follow up.

Now that we're both settled here in Somerville (Caufield's thriving at Harvard and I am a newly-promoted manager at a popular café near Harvard Square), I think it's high time I get back to business with Bring Her Coffee or Tea. And what better way to do that than with a tasty, healthful, and unintentionally vegan recipe to ward off winter's icy bite?

Peach Perfect

So I've been watching more than my fair share of Sweet Genius this summer (what can I say -- Ron Ben-Israel is charmingly wacked-out), and seeing all these fantastic pastry chefs from around the country work like mad to create stunning works of dessert art in an abbreviated amount of time (and with those stupefyingly challenging mandatory ingredients) is nothing short of inspiring. I recently caught one episode featuring a chocolatier from New York who's only 23. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy -- I mean, here's this guy who's my age, and he's got it going on enough to be featured on a televised cooking competition. It was like a bell going off in my head, an annoying bell, yelling at me, "Hello, Lira, what the hell are you doing ring ring ring?!?!"

Rice Pudding with Poached Plums

Nothing says bummer summer like a week-long thunderstorm, right? It's been wet and gross here in Austin since Monday. The thunderstorms were so nuts that, on what turned out to be an unsuccessful Target run, the power went out three times. There's nothing freakier than being in a Target in a blackout with dozens of scared shrieking babies, I tell you what.